


Come Home

by LokiTheAssassin13, SumiSprite



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Abused Loki, And a he gets a hug!, Awesome Jotunheim, Child Neglect, Frigga's bad parenting, Frost Giants - Freeform, He was just born Premature, Intersex Jotun, Jotunn | Frost Giant, Kid Loki, Laufey is a good mama, Loki Is A Full Grown Frost Giant, Loki Needs a Hug, Loki Whump, Loki runs away, Loki-centric, M/M, Odin Started The War, Odin's Bad Parenting, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Poor Loki, Sif is a bitch, So many tags..., THe Jotnar rule!, The Jotnar are awesome, Thor is a brat, W3 are idiots, little loki
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2018-03-26 05:33:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3838981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LokiTheAssassin13/pseuds/LokiTheAssassin13, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SumiSprite/pseuds/SumiSprite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a story based off a prompt by <b>LokiTheAssassin13</b> which can he read here! ---> http://archiveofourown.org/works/3803695</p><p>Loki, after being hurt and mistreated on Asgard for the last time, runs away and wanders into a Hidden Path that leads into Jotunheim. There, he finds his real family, who were still mourning the loss of their supposedly dead first born. They meet, and Loki decides perhaps life isn't as unfair as he thought ti was...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This will likely be a three, maybe five chapter fic. But who knows? Prodigal was supposed to be ten chapters, and look how that turned out. lol
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> ~S~

__

Hello world  
Hope you're listening  
Forgive me if I’m young  
For speaking out of turn  
There’s someone I’ve been missing  
I think that they could be  
The better half of me  
They’re in the wrong place trying to make it right  
But I’m tired of justifying  
So I say to you…

Come home  
Come home  
Cause I’ve been waiting for you  
For so long  
For so long  
Right now there's a war between the vanities  
But all I see is you and me  
The fight for you is all I’ve ever known  
So come home  
Oh…

If one were to enter a certain room just near the servant’s quarters, no one would ever think a prince lived there.

Besides the fact that it was originally a storage unit for the servants’ cleaning supplies, it was not exactly what one would expect to see in a young prince’s quarters. For one, it was just as it sounded – a somewhat large room with stone walls and no windows. The bed – if it could be called that – was obviously old and lumped, flattened with years of eager feet jumping up and down on it. Though there was a thin, worn blanket, there were no pillows.

The rest of the room, well, there wasn’t much to it. There was a small wardrobe though, and a rickety old wood table. Nothing was on it though, save for some parchment and a pencil, and a roll of stale bread – the remains of the occupant’s lunch. 

The owner of this room was Loki, second prince of Asgard. Or so that’s what his title supposedly said.

If he were honest with himself, Loki wasn’t a very happy child. He had just turned five not too long ago, but he couldn’t remember having a birthday celebration. Actually, now that he thought of it, he didn’t think he ever had a birthday in his life. Not that it mattered to him. Other children always looked forward to their birthdays, claiming it to be a wondrous event. But Loki had never experienced such a thing, so he figured it wasn’t as great as other children made it out to be.

Thor, his brother, certainly did. Every year it was the same, with Loki holed up in his room, covering his ears as the overly loud party above shook his room and prevented him from sleeping. Though he was supposedly family, he was never invited to his brother’s birthdays…

Loki sniffled, wrapping his thin blanket tighter around himself. Eyes watering, he stared at the remains of his only friend; a ragged, misshapen stuffed toy he and an elderly servant had helped him make. The servant in question had passed away last year, much to Loki’s dismay; she always brought him sweets after dinner and would tell him stories.

It was a horse – or at least, that’s what Loki said it was. To anyone else, it would have looked quite a bit strange; it had eight legs after all, but Loki loved it all the same. 

But now it lay in a pile of stuffing, torn fabric, and split threads. 

Loki withheld a sob. In a way, he thought it was his fault, even though he knew it most certainly was not…

****

**

~s~S~s~

**

****

It had been so sudden, and too shocking to really comprehend. Thor, along with his friends – a girl named Sif and some other boys – had just barged right into his room unannounced, laughing loudly and obnoxiously at some thing or another. The reason became quite clear when they revealed their pilfered sweets from the kitchens, still warm and sweet smelling. It had made Loki’s stomach growl.

The sound drew Thor and his companions’ attention to him. They seemed stunned to see him in the room, and Sif scowled, crossing her arms.

“What are _you_ looking at?” she growled.

Loki lowered his gaze, sighing. This wasn’t exactly the first time they have done this. Loki’s room being near the servant’s quarters, no one would guess the kids would hide there when they stole sweets from the kitchens. And besides, if they were caught, they could just blame Loki and say he made them do it. 

Loki shuddered; his back tingled painful at the last time Thor and his friends had blamed him for something. Odin had been in a foul mood that day as well, and there just so happened to be a riding crop in the direct vicinity. He could still remember Frigga’s impassive, disappointed look as he silently pleaded with her to make Odin stop. And he could remember hearing – though not seeing through the tears – Thor and his friends laughing at him.

He considered himself lucky; at least he didn’t get an infection, despite being denied a healer’s assistance. Now all he had were just a few thick scars on his back. 

The children dug into their spoils, ignoring Loki and chattering to one another. Loki’s mouth watered, and he eyed the pastries and cookies in their haul. Mustering up some form of courage, he quietly slid off his bed and shuffled towards the feasting children, his bare feet soundless on the cold stone floor. He stopped before the group, huddled around their pilfered sweets like wolves around a sheep carcass. 

“Um…” he started, “Can I have one?”

The chatter paused, and five heads veered around to look at Loki, mouths stuffed. Loki swallowed, suddenly nervous. He looked to his brother with hopeful, pleading eyes, clutching his stuffed horse tightly. Thor scowled, swallowing his mouth full before turning to face Loki.

“No,” he snapped, “You didn’t help, why should you get any?”

Loki bit his lip, cheeks flushing. He lowered his gaze from his brother and the others.

“I let you hide here…” he pointed out, “I mean…can’t I just have one?”

“No!” Fandral snapped, harshly biting down on a cookie, as if to emphasize his point.

“Please…” Loki said quietly, feet shuffling, “I’m hungry…”

“Get your own food!” Sif snapped, getting up to loom over Loki – despite being about Loki’s age, she was somehow taller than the second prince. And it frightened him, how intimidating and nasty such a young girl could be. 

“You didn’t do anything – you don’t do anything at all!” She snapped, “You just sit here in your room with your stupid Seidr and your dumb horse!”

Loki gasped as she snatched said horse from his arms, clutching it tightly around the neck, as if she were strangling it.

“G-give it back!” Loki exclaimed, reaching for his toy – but Sif held it up high, out of the tiny prince’s reach. 

“You freak, it doesn’t even look like a horse,” Fandral laughed, pointing at the stuffed toy, “Look! He put eight legs on it!”

Looking at the toy, the children laughed. Loki flushed red, embarrassed. It wasn’t his fault; it had been his first time making a toy, and he had only turned four at the time!

“Please, give it back!” He implored, trying to reach his only toy.

Sif scoffed, tossing the toy to a waiting Hogun. The Vanir looked at the horse with a mixture of disgust and uncertainty, holding it by a single strand of its yarn mane, as if he held something dangerous. Hogun threw it to Volstagg as Loki made to grab it, the largest of the children laughing uproariously. 

“Keep away!” he exclaimed, throwing it to Thor.

“Stop! Give him back!” Loki cried, eyes burning.

“Then come and get it!” Thor laughed, throwing it to Fandral. 

Loki’s eyes burned, but he did not dare let any tears fall. Such actions would warrant even more taunting, even more scorn. He knew this by now; it took him only one crying session from Odin’s beating to learn this. Tears were a weakness in Asgard; they were not a sign of distress or a way to somewhat dull the pain in one’s heart and body. Tears were a disgrace…

“Please, give him back!” he yelled, trying to catch the stuffed toy. Sif caught it instead.

“What, are you going to cry?” She crooned mockingly.

Loki bit his lip, clenching his fists at his sides as he scowled at Sif. He hated her, he always hated her. It wasn’t fair; Thor was his brother, and yet somehow he seems to have replaced him with Sif. He never acknowledged Loki, even going as far as to say he wasn’t his brother. And here comes Sif, and suddenly Thor does not have a little brother, but a stubborn, cruel sister. 

Honestly, when they first met, Loki thought she could be his friend. She wanted to be a warrior, and he wanted to pursue the arts of Seidr. She was already wary of him and looked upon him with mild distain, but the moment he voiced this to her, she gave him the nastiest scowl and called him a weakling. 

“Sif…” he rasped, trying to keep his voice even, “Give him back…”

Sif scoffed, holding his toy by one of its legs – like she was holding a dead rat by its tail.

“Then come and get it,” she mocked, eyes sliding over to the obviously waiting Fandral.

Loki eyed Fandral, his scowl intensifying. He was tired, he was angry, he didn’t feel well, and he was hungry. He did not want this – he just wanted to be left alone in his cold, lonely chambers and let the days pass him by like they always did. Was it truly too much to ask for a bit of compassion from these people? Just a bit of mercy? Couldn’t he have just this _one_ thing?

His fingertips tingled with poison green magic. He looked back at Sif, expression as green and poisonous as his Seidr. 

Sif blinked, taken aback. She had seen Loki upset before – more times than she cared to think of. But she had never, ever seen him this enraged. It unnerved her, the dark shadows under his eyes, in the creases of his scrunched brows. His pale face was ghostly, his eyes livid and glowing. And before she could taunt him further, his hands lit up with green fire.

The others paled, stunned.

And although Sif would never admit it, but she was frightened. They all were.

Loki snarled with bared teeth, “Give. Him. Back.”

Sif scowled, uncertain. They were now literally playing with fire, and any wrong move could mean the end of things. 

But she was a child – and more than that, she was a nasty child. She hated Loki, and her emotions were the driving force behind her actions. 

Loki frowned as Sif grabbed another of his toy’s legs. But he no sooner gasped, eyes wide, as Sif pulled it hard enough for the weak seams to rip.

“Stop…” he rasped.

Sif grinned, pulling the leg harder until its only attachment to the body were a few split and worn threads. He could hear the others giggling and laughing behind him, and Loki could only watch as Sif took another leg and started tearing it off as well 

“I said, stop…” his voice choked, strained and tight.

Sif shook her head, her grin widening as she grabbed the horse’s head. Loki faltered, tears bursting from his eyes, as Sif took his toy’s head, and tore it clear of its neck. 

The proverbial thread in Loki’s head snapped.

And with a shrill, animalistic scream, he pulled his fist back and threw a burning ball of green fire at Sif. The girl screamed, dropping the toy as the fireball hit her, sending her crashing into the back wall, her clothes singed. 

Seething, Loki ignored the others as they rushed to the girl’s side. She was sobbing, clutching her mildly burnt arms as she cried. And yet the others pitied her; Loki found it both infuriating and confusing. If Sif cried, because she was a girl who was hurt, she was not going to be ridiculed. And yet she wanted to be a warrior one day.

 _‘Pathetic…’_ Loki thought, wanting to spit.

He looked up however at the sound of feet rushing at him. But the moment he looked up, he could only see Thor’s first flying at him. His vision flashed out briefly, and when it came back, he was looking up at the ceiling of his chambers, his right eye throbbing. It took him a moment to realize what happened, but it only caused more tears to spring to his eyes.

Thor had hit him. _Thor had hit him._

Thor had _never_ hit him in their entire lives. He had never even touched Loki in any way, and for his first touch to his own little brother to be a physical act of violence and hatred…

It was like glass shattered in Loki’s chest. The meager, dying hope he held for Thor one day looking at him with anything but contempt, the desire to see his brother smile at him and to protect him; it had shattered utterly and completely. 

Thor could never be Loki’s brother now…

Thor glared at Loki from above the fallen child, not even feeling the tiniest bit of remorse for the swelling already forming around his not-brother’s eye. He soon turned on his heels, going back to his friends, who were helping Sif up and leading her to the door. 

When she was led out, Thor turned to Loki with a scornful look in his electric blue eyes. 

“I hate you.” He slammed the door shut behind him. 

And Loki was, once again, alone and hurt…

****

**

~s~S~s~

**

****

Loki sobbed, gently touching the torn threads and stiff stuffing of his toy and friend. One of its green button eyes was hanging by a thread now, having been loosened from Sif’s cruel grip on its head. 

He sniffled, rubbing his eyes, “I’m sorry…” he rasped.

It hurt so much. It felt like his heart was being eaten alive, torn to shreds and burning in a pile of coals. He couldn’t take it anymore! He’s lived his life in relative peace, despite knowing he wasn’t favored or looked upon as anything but a burden. He was fine with that, so long as someone, anyone, looked upon him at all. But Thor…

_“I hate you.”_

Too much – it was too much now. He was only a little boy looking for any semblance of love and compassion. And he suddenly seemed to acknowledge that he was not going to get any of that staying here. Not just in his rooms – but Asgard overall. 

And so with a broken heart, his beloved toy wrapped in a thin cloth, Loki left his room. He didn’t even bother to put on any shoes or take anything else with him. He didn’t care anymore, he just wanted to leave Asgard.

And he knew of only one way to leave it.

****

~s~S~s~

The path was easy enough to find.

Loki had found the strange tear in time and space just last year. He could see it clearly, hidden like a blemish behind some bushes in the garden. Normally, he wasn’t allowed in the gardens. But at the time, that kind servant woman had been around and insisted he needed some fresh air.

“You are so pale, child,” she had said, cupping his cheek with an aged, warm hand. “A little sunshine will do you some good!”

And so he had found himself outside one late afternoon, able to toddle about and smell the flowers. No one had been around thankfully, so Loki was able to enjoy himself for as long as he wanted. And that was when he had found the Hidden Path.

He at first had no idea what it was, this strange rip that hung in midair. But when the servant found him in the bushes, she told him what it was. 

“Not many people can see them,” she had said, “But the few who can traverse them, finding new and mysterious worlds.”

“How come some people can’t see them?” Loki had asked. 

The servant woman smiled, patting his head, “Because not many are as special as you and I.”

That had been almost exactly one year ago. And now here Loki was, standing before the Hidden Path he had kept secret from everyone else. 

He looked to the sky, squinting at the few stars that existed above Asgard. The nights there were rather bleak, often clear but boasting few stars or galaxies. The moon however shone down on him like a watching guardian, its round face a welcoming presence. 

He clutched his ruined toy tightly, swallowing as he stared into the rip in reality. The servant had warned him to never enter it unless he was in absolute danger and needed to escape. She did not know where it led to, and so could not be sure it would take him someplace safe. 

“Or if you are lucky, it can take you to that place you were meant to be,” she had said, giving Loki a knowing look.

Loki had been quite confused at the statement. But the servant always seemed to have a strange manner about her, like she knew something about him that he himself did not know. But he shrugged it off; there was no point in thinking on it now. Now, he wanted an escape, and this was his only means of it.

He turned to look up at Asgard’s grand palace. Had his life been different, he probably would have seen it as a grand, wondrous home. But to him, it was a prison. You can build a cage of gold for a bird, but no matter its opulence, it was still a cage. 

Loki took a deep breath, turning his back on his once-home. Or had it ever been his home to begin with? What was a home? He had not the tiniest inkling of what a real home was like; how warm it could be, how loving and caring parents were, or how wonderful friends could be. He never had any of these things. So perhaps all the tales he has been told about loving parents and a safe, warm home were just that.

 _‘It doesn’t matter,’_ he thought, _‘I’ll make my own home.’_

He startled somewhat at the distant shout of guards. Lights were being lit from windows of the palace, all near the servant’s quarters; they were looking for him. 

Loki trembled, the scars on his back stinging. He had attacked Sif when she had taken his toy and ruined it. But no one would hear his side of the story, let alone believe him. And Odin was anything but merciful to his second son.

Without a word, Loki rushed through the Hidden Path. Once through, the tear in reality collapsed and closed, never to open into Asgard again…

****

~s~S~s~

The first thing Loki took notice of when he leaped through the end of the path, was the snow.

It was everywhere, white as milk and soft as a newborn lamb’s wool. Spires of ice towered over him, like sentinels reaching for the abyssal sky. 

The second thing Loki noticed were the _stars_.

Billions, if not more, they floated scattered about the sky like little pin holes in blue-black paper. Galaxies and milky ways streaked the navy blue canvas, shooting stars cutting across it like white arrows. An aurora fluttered like a rainbow drape in the sky, dancing at the highest and lowest peaks, billowing and rolling like waves of pure light and color. 

Loki stared, awestruck and mesmerized. He didn’t even notice the cold seeping into his bare toes, the frigid sting of the wind reddening his cheeks. 

Loki had always loved winter, even though he never much got to see it. Asgard’s winters were short and lacked for much snow. It was mostly rain and shorter days. As was the realm of gold and sunlight, winter was hardly a welcomed guest in realm of the Aesir. Loki had only ever seen snow in picture books the kind servant brought him, or heard descriptions from her or former warriors who battled in Jotunheim.

Jotunheim…

Loki gasped; he was on Jotunheim. He didn’t know how, but he simply _knew_ he was on Jotunheim. The land spoke to him somehow, the snow aglow with a frigid energy that he could feel and hear. It hummed in his body, buzzed under his skin. He felt like his own flesh was too small and tight for him, and he wanted to get out of it. 

And the cold, it didn’t bother him at all. He had always been a sickly child, but somehow, the chill of the frozen realm did not affect him. If anything, it felt…welcoming almost.

He felt like he was _home._

“HALT!”

Loki gasped veering around at the loud, bellowed roar. His eyes widened on the large blue men atop their equally large, furry white beasts. Weapons clutched in their sapphire hands, eyes of garnet and ruby glared at Loki. The Aesir child whimpered, clutching his toy closer to his chest.

One of the Jotnar snarled, pointing his spear at Loki.

“Who are you?” he snarled, “How did you get here?”

Loki trembled and shook his head, unable to answer. He was terrified, not of the Jotnar themselves, but how they were looking at him. They looked at him like Odin did; like he was filth stuck under his boot, the very bane of his existence. 

Getting no response seemed to aggravate the Jotnar, but they did not attack. Instead, the leading Jotun dismounted his beast and stalked over to Loki, towering over the small child. 

“Speak,” he grunted, “From where do you hail from?”

Loki swallowed, trembling more. But he somehow managed to summon a smidge of courage, and he spoke.

“I…I r-ran away…” he whimpered.

The Jotnar all frowned, suspicious. 

“I asked you where you hailed from, boy,” he growled.

Loki lowered his gaze, “A-Asgard…”

Aggressive grunts and growls were heard, the slide of blades being unsheathed like nails on chalkboard to Loki. But the leading Jotun held up a hand, signaling the others to wait. 

“And why have you run away from your golden realm?” he grunted.

Loki sniffled, suddenly terrified. What if these Jotnar sent him back to Asgard? What if they did not allow him to stay, and demanded Odin take him back. He’d never stand a chance, and he would probably never find another means of escape!

“Please…!” he rasped, a sob escaping him, “Don’t send me back…please don’t send me back! Father will hit me again…! And Thor will laugh at me, and-”

“Thor?” The Jotun repeated, stunned, “You are a companion of Aesir Prince Thor?”

Loki shook his head, “I-I’m his brother…”

Silence reigned over them suddenly. Loki continued to tremble, his eyes locked on the bare feet of the Jotun before him. In the back of his head, he wondered why the Jotnar didn’t wear shoes. People in Asgard said it was because they were so uncivilized that they didn’t even know how to make shoes. But it made Loki wonder if they simply didn’t like shoes. Loki certainly didn’t; he felt more free when he was bare footed. And the snow felt good between his toes.

“Your father…” the Jotun didn’t miss how Loki flinched, “He is All-Father Odin?”

Loki nodded.

“And you are his second son?”

He made as if to nod, but paused. He lowered his head more.

“I don’t know…” he muttered, “He treats me differently from Thor…people say I’m not Thor’s brother…I don’t know…”

Sharing a few odd looks with one another, the Jotnar seemed to share a mental conversation. This could help them, or purely do nothing for them. On one hand, they could take this supposed second son of Odin to their king and open negotiations with Odin. They had heard rumors of Odin’s second son, but many had dismissed him as nothing but a rumor. No one had really ever seen the second prince, but he fit the few descriptions people made of him. 

But on the other hand, if this boy was as ill-treated as he made it sound, Odin might not even care to have the second prince back. 

But outside of this, they could only really see the general picture before them; there was a lost, beaten and abused child in their realm, and he was obviously desperate for their mercy. 

“Thrym…” one of the Jotnar muttered.

The Jotun before Loki nodded, sighing deeply. Honestly, he was getting too old for this. He cursed his son and grandchildren for thinking of them as he looked upon the lost boy.

He kneeled down in front of Loki, startling the young boy. But the Jotun slowly slid his spear back into its holster on his back, and held up his empty hands to Loki. 

“Don’t be afraid,” he said, “We’re going to take you to our king, and perhaps he can arrange something.”

Loki swallowed thickly, his throat tight. He clutched at his wrapped toy, staring at the large blue man in apprehension. Though stories of the Jotnar were many, Loki could only recall a few snippets of such vulgar stories from chatting and gossiping servants. But outside of that, Loki was completely uncertain of these giants. Few tales of their savagery passed through the walls of his cold, stony bedroom. Things like stories were few and far between for Loki, and the only few he could recall were the ones told to him by the old servant woman…

The Jotun – Thrym, one of them had called him – surveyed Loki with a narrow frown. The purpling bruise around his partly shut eye was quite concerning, a testament to the child’s supposed abuse. His clothing was also quite puzzling, if not contradictory to his supposed status. Loki only wore a faded, threadbare brown tunic and baggy hoes, his feet bare and buried in the snow. Thrym easily recognized hand-me-downs, but he was quite a bit puzzled as to why they were so old and not at all indicative of Loki’s status as prince. It was quite common for commoners and the lower class to pass down clothing, but for royalty to do so, and not at the very least mending what was obviously very old…

Loki bit his lip, looking up at Thrym imploringly.

“You…you won’t send me back?” he asked meekly.

Thrym took a moment to ponder over what the child was asking him. Likely he wasn’t going to see the kid again when and if he took him to Laufey and Fárbauti. But he was a father – and a grandfather – all the same, and he knew how much promises and reassurance meant to a child.

“I swear on my life you will not go back without good reason,”hHe said.

Seemingly satisfied with the answer, Loki nodded and stepped towards the Jotun. Carefully, as if the little Aesir were made of brittle frost and melted ice, Thrym picked him up under his little arms and held him against his chest. Loki squirmed somewhat, shifting about until he was comfortable. 

“What is your name?” Thrym asked, turning back to his beast.

“Loki…” Loki said quietly, hugging his wrapped toy to his chest.

Thrym nodded as he mounted his beast. He grunted out orders to the others to go on ahead of him and alert their kings of their findings. While they went on ahead, leaving Thrym with two others at his side, Thrym settled Loki on one thigh against his abdomen. He gently kicked his beast into a steady trot, much slower than he normally would ride. But he did not want to jostle Loki and possibly hurt him, or make him sick. 

Loki…Thrym frowned, his hand tightening on the beast’s reigns. He had a name so similar to his lost nephew’s name. He looked down at the quiet child in his arm, suspicious yet curious. The child was barely clothed, and he wore no shoes or even any socks. Yet he had stood perfectly fine in the snow of their icy realm, his clothing so thin and ragged, they couldn’t even shield him from their unforgiving winds. But he did not tremble, his teeth did not chatter – he did not appear as if the cold bothered his at all. And his scent…it wasn’t like any Aesir he’s ever encountered. 

The boy carried the scent of a very young Jotun…

To be continued…


	2. Chapter 2

When Laufey had been informed of the second Odinson’s appearance in his realm, he was both immediately suspicious and furious. Though why he was furious was debatable; not even he was too certain as to why he was so angry at the news. Perhaps he was just irritated that an Aesir – even if it was a child – had the gall to enter his realm after the war nearly desolated his lands and people. 

The Jotun king sighed, rubbing his forehead. He didn’t even flinch when large hands slipped around his waist and curled around his stomach, a broad and tall figure pressing into his back. 

“You are going to give yourself a headache.”

“Not now, Fárbauti…” 

The larger Jotun chuckled, kissing the back of his mate’s neck. A warning growl erupted from Laufey, but Fárbauti only continued his ministrations; stroking his sides and kissing his nape, he was not the least bit intimidated by the smaller Jotun’s apparent irritation. 

“ _Fárbauti…_ ”

Taking the hint, Fárbauti sighed and backed off, though he did not relinquish his hold on Laufey’s waist. 

“You are stressed,” he stated.

“And with good reason,” Laufey sighed. “What in Hel’s name is an Aesir child doing here? Is Odin so narcissistic, or perhaps stupid, to send a child to possibly spy on us?”

Fárbauti snorted, resting his chin on a narrow shoulder, “You are paranoid, dearest. I highly doubt Odin is _that_ stupid.”

“Stupid enough to start an unnecessary war…” Laufey said quietly, arms crossing just above Fárbauti’s hands. 

The larger Jotun frowned, pressing into his mate’s back.

“You are having that dream again…” It was supposed to be a question, but it came out as more a statement of fact.

Laufey tensed, shoulders tightening. Nonetheless, he nodded.

He felt his mate tighten his arms around him, and he allowed himself to be held. He was too tired and mentally drained to protest the treatment. 

It was always the same, around or on the anniversary of the end of the war – and the beginning and end of his firstborn’s life. 

He would relive that day in his dreams. The day the Aesir invaded his home after a not so successful attempt to plant crops on Midgard. The plan to set up agricultural settlements on the planet’s two poles had at first gone very well, and for a time everything was going perfectly – the Midgardian’s welcomed them in rapt curiosity and intrigue, willingly trading their goods for their own. They taught the Midgardians how to dive the oceans for food and make shelters from blocks of ice and snow, and the Misgardians taught them how to create medicines and tonics from plants and how to make sleds.

It was during this time that Laufey found himself pregnant with his and Fárbauti’s first child. Both he and his mate had been so excited, anxious for their child to come into the world. 

Perhaps a bit too anxious.

Exactly four months before Laufey was due, his belly only just then beginning to swell, their son had been born to them. 

He had been so tiny, so fragile and precious. Laufey and Fárbauti had fallen in love the moment the tiny infant had been placed in his Dam’s hands. Though many speculated the premature child would not last long, Laufey and Fárbauti knew better; their child was strong, powerful in a way only he could be. His ancestral lines were aglow with the powerful Seidr flowing through his veins. A sorcerer, the first one to be born to the icy realm in thousands of years – and he was _their_ son. 

Laufey had given birth in a healing pool of spring water located deep under the palace, as custom dictated. Loptr lilies floated above the water, the large, snowy flowers tightly closed. But once their son had left Laufey’s body, the flowers bloomed in bursts of milky white petals and glowing blue centers. They had named their son after the lilies, for he was delicate yet bursting with life and the power to make even the most stubborn of flower bloom. 

Everything had been perfect to them, for such a short time that seemed to last an eon. Loptr was celebrated, gifted with so much, he would want for nothing else in his life. From jewels and luxurious furs, to toys and even a few pets – and of course, an endless abundance of the flowers for which he was named after. Even the Midgardians had sent their congratulations with gifts and prayers of health and longevity. 

But it was not to last…

Just like in his dreams, Laufey could only watch on in helpless grief as the Aesir, somehow under the impression that they were trying to take over another realm, chased them out of Midgard and back to Jotunheim. But it did not stop there; no, Odin could not simply chase them back to their home, leaving behind the wounded and slaughtered, of human and Jotun alike. He simply had to take it to war. 

Terrified for no one but their tiny, sickly baby, Fárbauti urged Laufey to take Loptr and hide. Of course he refused at first, but Fárbauti reasoned he could not fight with a baby in his arms. So Laufey fled after a parting kiss to his mate, and sought sanctuary in their temple.

But Laufey could not stay away, not when the howls and screams of his people being slaughtered outside the temple doors could be heard by him. He feared for his mate, he feared for his people, he feared for his Loptr. But in the end, he had made his choice; placing Loptr near the Casket of Ancient Winters, a mere relic next to such a precious gem, Laufey kissed his son and left to fight alongside his people. 

A king does not abandon his people. But perhaps this made the decision all the harder, for Laufey had to leave behind his own son to defend what was already lost. 

And when the Aesir suddenly retreated, the two kings raced for the temple, only to find the doors open, and the many Jotnar who fought valiantly to keep the Aesir out slaughtered. The inside was every bit as bloody as the outside.

The Casket was gone. But that is not why Laufey fell to his knees and cried out.

The powerful relic was just that; a simple relic used as more or less a battery to keep parts of Jotunheim alive and thriving when need be. But it was hardly ever needed, and almost never used as a weapon of war and violence. 

No, the Casket could be replaced in time. It was the occupant of the blooded furs Laufey had left his baby swaddled in that made his heart shatter. 

Jotunheim’s relic was lost – but the entire kingdom mourned the loss of its precious prince, the Heart of Jotunheim himself. 

Loptr was gone. And his parents mourned him for nearly five years, and yet it felt as if it could very well have been five centuries or more. The heartache never lessened, nor did Laufey’s nightmares and grief. 

It had gotten to a point where Laufey was too frightened to have any more children, so afraid as he was of losing them as he did Loptr. It broke Fárbauti’s heart, but he nevertheless supported his mate, slowly coaxing him out of his depression and back into their world. 

Even now, after five years, Laufey could not bear the thought of having another child. Not just yet anyways; and Fárbauti did not press the matter, no matter how much he wanted more children with his beloved. 

Hands tightening around Laufey’s waist, Fárbauti sighed and nuzzled his mate’s cheek, his dark hair – the exact same dark hair Loptr had been born with – tickling his neck. 

“It cannot be helped…” he said quietly.

Laufey sighed, “I know…”

“Shall we see to the Aesir child?” 

Laufey paused, as if to think and contemplate his mate’s words. Slowly, he deflated in his mate’s arms, slowly slipping out of his hold. He raked his fingers through his snow white hair, the long tresses brushing against his lower back. 

“Let us get it over with…” he sighed.

Fárbauti nodded, holding is arm out to Laufey. The slender Jotun gratefully took the offered arm, and together the reigning monarchs made their way to the throne room. 

****

**

~s~S~s~

**

****

Thrym would never admit it aloud, but there was something about Loki that he was finding himself growing very intrigued by. 

The Lieutenant of the Jotun army watched the Aesir child in one of his arms as he marched through the icy palace and to the throne room. Loki seemed very much in awe of all the ice and crystalline frost. Light traveled throughout the palace in a calm, subtle blue light. It gave the palace a calm, soothing atmosphere, a rather perplexing thing to think about if one were Aesir. Calmness was just not something most would associate with the Jotnar, let alone something so beautiful and peaceful. 

Loki often asked Thrym questions, mostly about things he saw or came up with at random moments. Some were rather enduring, others Thrym could only assume came from how the typical adult Aesir saw the Jotnar and Loki simply wishing to clarify. Was the entire palace made of ice? What do you eat? You don’t eat children, do you? How come the Jotnar are so tall? Don’t you get scared of heights? What’s that thing? Is that a bear? How come you don’t ride horses? Hey, some of these Jotnar have hair, where did yours go?

Thrym laughed at the last question, though he replied that many warriors and soldiers shaved their heads for convenience. But yes, most Jotnar had hair, and no, we are not inherently bald throughout our lives. 

“That is a typical Aesir stereotype, child,” Thrym added. Loki blinked, confused.

“What’s a stere-…stere-o…that word?” he asked.

Rolling his eyes fondly, his aged face grinning at the enduring child in his arm, Thrym elaborated.

“It is a word to describe those who do not know the facts, who simply associate one person with a habit or physical trait they think is accurate,” he said.

Loki looked even more lost, and the soldier next to Thrym chuckled and leaned towards Loki.

“He means people who are mean and think less of others are that way,” he explained. Thrym shot the soldier a look, but the younger Jotun only chuckled.

“Oooh…” Loki, now understanding – somewhat – then frowned, “Am I being ster…stere-o-typ…that word? I don’t want to be mean…”

Thrym sighed, suddenly very much wishing for his family. Interacting with children had always been something he enjoyed, both as a parent and a grandparent. But even now, both his children and children’s children were all grown up, and having a small child in his arms again brought about bittersweet nostalgia. 

He shook his head, “No, you are anything but ‘that word’. You are merely curious and wish to know the facts, and that, child, is an admirable trait.”

Loki cocked his head, not quite fully understanding. But he only shrugged and settled back in Thrym’s arms, chewing on the end of the cloth that held his toy. Thrym chuckled, before sobering. He hoped Laufey and his brother would have mercy on this child; not that he thought they would be cruel to Loki, quite the opposite. But they were still two Jotnar that had lost a child, and to be confronted with their greatest enemy’s second son would be a painful thing to do. 

It made Thrym ache for the two kings. His nephew had only just been a tiny little thing, not even truly old enough to leave the womb. But he had been strong, stubborn, just like both his parents. And he had not only survived, but thrived under the attention and care of his family. Everyone had been absolutely smitten with the tiny prince; from the servants and lords, the commoners and soldiers, not even the stoic and gruff elders and veterans could not resist the baby’s charm. 

But all that was gone now. But even still, Loki reminded Thrym of Loptr. He would be around Loki’s age right now, perhaps even the same size as him. Or perhaps not – with Loptr being born premature, it was expected for him to be smaller than other Jotnar, but just how small was anyone’s guess. 

They approached the large set of double doors that led to the throne room, the entry flanked by two guards on either side. Thrym greeted the guards, both of which eyed Loki hesitantly. They didn’t look at Loki unkindly, but there was an undercurrent of caution in their eyes. Not surprising, all things considered. Even an Aesir child would be looked upon with suspicion in Jotunheim. Thrym considered the boy quite lucky; had he been found by the more vicious, bitter Jotnar that had survived the war, he likely would not be treated as kindly. Even the Jotnar held bitterness and grief strong enough to cloud judgment and override even the most logical of thinking. Not even a child would be spared under an angry and grieving Jotun…

They granted Thrym passage, and opened the large doors. Loki made an awed sound at the inside of the vast throne room. 

He’s only ever been in Asgard’s throne room perhaps a couple of times – usually for punishments or something of the like – but even he found comparing Asgard’s throne room to this one quite unfair. 

For one thing, this one was larger, and in his opinion, more beautiful. Asgard was a lovely realm, but Loki always thought it had too much gold. It was obnoxiously bright and opulent, something Loki found no appeal in. Whenever he was allowed to leave his rooms, he found himself tearing up from the bright lights and overly shiny golds and metals. 

But here, everything was a soothing, calm blue with hints of modest silver, and what appeared to be jade décor and some furniture. Nothing about the icy palace was overwhelming or obnoxiously bright. The only really daunting thing about it was the sheer size, but even that didn’t bother Loki so much. 

Pillars of solid jade lined the side walls, flanked by gossamer sheer drapes, sparkling like stars caught in a spider’s web, gently billowing in the wind of the open windows. A long rug led up the dais that held two equally sized thrones of ice and stone. Everything was so open, so airy and cool, yet there was silence and quiet content; peace is what came to mind. Where Asgard was loud, bright, and chaotic, Jotunheim was the calm to the storm, the silence in the still of winter, the peace before a war. 

“Wow…” he breathed, looking around with wide eyes. He could scarcely see Jotun guards hidden behind the pillars, some seemingly in the icy walls themselves! 

And atop the thrones upon the dais, were two regal Jotnar.

Loki stared in awe and mild trepidation. Laufey and Fárbauti; he had only heard about them in stories, and yet he could not help but wonder just what the Aesir were thinking when telling those stories.

Obviously they never met, or even saw, the two kings. Where the Aesir described them as beastly, wretched things that wore barely any clothing, Loki could not help but think them grossly wrong. 

Fárbauti was, in any true essence, a giant. He was quite large, larger than Thrym, and much larger than even Laufey. His shoulders were broad and clad with a black fur mantle with what appeared to be very large bear paws as shoulder guards. A dark leather strap crossed over his chest, ending in a matching belt around his waist that seemed to be holding a short fur kilt and knee-high skirt at his hips. He was honestly dressed rather plainly, with very few jewels decorating his frame; Loki could only make out a few silver bands around his biceps, and a jade pendent around his neck. His hair was dark and long, black as night and soft looking, flowing freely down his back. His eyes were a dark ruby red, and they stared at Loki with a great intensity.

Laufey on the other hand, he was a greatly different contrast to Fárbauti. 

Where Fárbauti was rather muscular, broad and tall, Laufey was slender and lithe, but still boasted whipcord muscles and a cutting gaze of bright garnet. He was dressed similarly to Fárbauti, but where Fárbauti was more plain, Laufey was dressed rather regally. He wore only a single sling of white fur over one shoulder, his neck decked out in a few silver necklaces, and his arms donned in a few jade bands. A short kilt of white fur sat about his hips, trailing down into a dark red skirt that matched his eyes, flowing elegantly at his bare feet. His hair was white as snow, held back from his face by a thin silver diadem with short horns protruding from it near the temples. 

The Aesir have always said how ugly and beastly the Jotnar were. But standing right here, before the two kings of the Jotun realm, Loki could not call them anything but beautiful. 

Thrym gently set Loki down on his feet before bowing to the royal couple, and gesturing to Loki.

“My kings, we found this Aesir child in the drifts during patrol,” he started. “He says he has run away from Asgard, using a Hidden Path to get here.”

“Run away?” Fárbauti said skeptically, looking down at Loki, “Why, child, have you decided to run from your golden realm?”

Loki swallowed, eyes burning. He ducked his head and looked away, shuffling his feet and hugging his toy closer. Thrym cleared his throat, catching the kings’ attention. He approached them more closely, now at the foot of the dais. 

“He says he was being abused,” he said in a low whisper, “He is terrified of going back, and desires sanctuary here…”

He frowned suddenly, eying Loki, “I am sure you have noticed the black eye and his clothing…”

The two kings nodded, eyes glued to the Aesir child. Laufey suddenly frowned, taking in the child’s bare feet, and his lack of shivering or any signs of being cold. 

Fárbauti also seemed quite intrigued, but slightly guarded. 

“And he is supposedly Odin’s second son?” he inquired. Thrym nodded.

“Yes, though he has been frequently told he is not Prince Thor’s brother…” Thrym looked uneasy. “He eventually confessed that it was Prince Thor who gave him the black eye.”

Fárbauti felt more than heard the growl Laufey conceived, his hands tightening over the armrest of his throne. The larger king also took note of the little prince’s clothes – or rags as they more seemed to be. That certainly didn’t seem right…

“He wishes to possibly work as a servant here…” Thrym said uncertainly. If he were honest, he could not see the little prince enduring hard labor; he was far too tiny and frail for such things. He was just a child too, practically a baby; he shouldn’t have to work.

Seeming to read his doubts in his brother’s tone, Fárbauti regarded the little Aesir firmly.

“How old are you, child?” he asked.

“F-…f-five, sir…I think…” Loki said. Fárbauti frowned.

“You _think?_ ” he inquired. Loki shrugged.

“I don’t get to have birthdays, so…I don’t really remember how old I am…” he said shyly.

Again, Fárbauti could very much feel the absolute fury buzzing off of Laufey. It was making him a bit nervous, but at the same time, he couldn’t really blame the other Jotun. Laufey loved children, and children to the Jotnar were precious and few. Abuse of a Jotun child was punishable by death in some cases in Jotunheim, though what Asgard’s laws were were unknown to them. All they knew was that most male children were put into warrior camps and females were taught how to be homemakers. 

_‘Barbarians…’_ Fárbauti thought bitterly. He cleared his throat.

“Alright, and you ran away because your…father…and Thor were mistreating you? What of your mother? Or friends?” he inquired.

Loki shook his head, “Mama doesn’t care, she doesn’t say anything when father hits me…and I don’t have any friends. No one likes me cause I practice Seidr, and boys aren’t allowed to do that I guess…”

Thrym was becoming increasingly uneasy, yet murderous. Laufey seemed to be on the edge of marching to Asgard and beating Odin to a pulp, while Fárbauti was trying to keep a level head despite his apparent anger at the things Loki was saying. 

“But doesn’t Odin use magic?” Fárbauti asked.

Loki nodded, “Yeah, but…he’s the king, so I guess it’s okay for him…”

The Jotnar were seeing a pattern here; Asgard only excused those with ‘cowardly’ traits so long as they were of high standing – the exception being Loki apparently. 

A little helpless now, his will to question the boy now completely lost, Fárbauti looked to Laufey for help. The smaller Jotun king sighed, steeling in his resolve. He looked to Loki with a softer expression, his voice not nearly as clipped as Fárbauti’s. 

“What is it you have there, child?” he asked, gesturing to the bundle in Loki’s hands. 

Loki swallowed, carefully unwrapping the cloth. He sobbed at seeing his ruined toy again, one of its legs falling to the floor and surprising the Jotnar.

“Sif tore him up…” he sniffled, “And Thor hit me for defending myself and trying to get him back…”

He looked up at the Jotnar pleadingly, green eyes watering.

“He’s my only friend, I don’t have any other toys besides him,” Loki said tearfully, “Please, don’t send me back! I-I’ll work really hard, I’ll do a-anything! J-just don’t send me back! F-father will hit me with that crop again, and Thor will laugh at me! It really hurts, please don’t send me back…!”

Laufey’s hand flew to his chest, disbelieving. Odin had beat this tiny, helpless child with a _crop?!_ He looked to his mate, finding Fárbauti just as stunned and his brother looking ready to go on a killing spree. But nevertheless, Laufey stared at Loki, taking in his tiny, shaking shoulders, tear streaked face and bruised eye. The instinctual urge to take the child into his arms was nearly overwhelming, but Laufey forced himself to remain where he was; for all he knew, such actions could scare the child and make things worse, and he did not want to distress Loki any more than he already has. 

But something about this child drew Laufey in, made the sudden urge to comfort nearly unbearable. There was something in his eyes, his face; something so familiar. 

Their eyes suddenly locked for a split second – green on red, and regardless of their coor, something rang painfully in Laufey.

A throb resonated in Laufey’s chest, a shock of _recognition_ shooting through his chest and up his spine. He drew in a sharp breath, catching the attention of his mate and Thrym.

_‘No…no, it can’t be…’_ he dared to hope, dared to be disappointed and have his heart crushed once more.

“Laufey?” Fárbauti watched, perplexed, as his mate rose from his throne and slowly and cautiously made his way towards Loki. 

The small Aesir watched, perplexed as Laufey approached him with cautious and even steps. He blinked bleary eyes as the Jotun king stopped before him, carefully getting down on his knees in front of Loki. Eyes wide, Loki watched as Laufey hesitantly reached out for him, hand shaking.

“Loptr…?” the Jotun breathed.

Loki blinked, confused, “No, I’m Loki…”

By this point, Fárbauti had stood from his own seat and was approaching Laufey, a concerned look upon his face.

“Laufey, he isn’t…” he paused, trying to find the right words, “He’s not our Loptr. He’s gone…”

Laufey ignored Fárbauti, and instead brought his hand closer to Loki. The child, though perplexed, did not move or make any protest as the hand drew closer. The large, cool hand gently placed itself over his cheek.

And then something amazing happened.

Slowly, like the spread of spilled ink over parchment, Loki’s skin, starting from Laufey’s hand, began to turn blue. 

Gasping soundlessly, the three Jotnar watched as Loki’s skin bled from a pale, sickly white to a beautiful shade of sky blue. His large, curious eyes turned red, the exact same shade of Laufey’s eyes, and markings only those born of Laufey and Fárbauti’s blood spiraled over his skin. 

Loki blinked, feeling the sensation of his skin changing, but not seeing it. It felt like someone was peeling away a mask that had been stuck to his face for years. He felt like he was finally feeling the air around him for the first time; this cool, blissful air of winter’s breath. 

He blinked, watching in stunned curiosity as tears fell from the Jotun king’s eyes, the other two behind him staring it complete and utter astonishment. Fárbauti’s hands were shaking, his eyes wide and mouth gaping. Thrym looked very much like he was seeing a miracle happening, the disbelief and hope in his eyes unmistakable. 

Laufey trembled, watching as his baby was brought back to him, his cursed Aesir skin melting away like wax from a candle. With eyes of garnet, skin of sapphire, and a heart of emerald, Laufey saw his child reborn right before his eyes. 

Loki blinked as the transformation completed, now feeling so much freer than he’s felt in his short life. Was it because of Laufey? Did he give him this new sense of freedom?

“Loptr…” Laufey sighed, voice straining, “My Loptr, you’ve come home…!”

Reaching out, he gently took Loki – no, his Loptr – into his arms for the first time in over five years. 

To be continued…


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys this is all the feels. Yeah, it's a short chapter, but like hell it's not going to punch you in the gut and make you puke up your feels. XD
> 
> Please enjoy! After this chapter, we will be exploring various firsts for Loki! If you have any ideas for these little cute drabbles, please let me know in a comment! 
> 
> ~S~

It was like watching a dam break. Slowly but surely, first starting with a few drops, then a trickle, and then it all comes crashing down on you like a herd of angry Bilgesnipe. 

Loki listened in rapt attention, eyes wide on Fárbauti. The little Jotun – once thought to be Aesir – sat perched on Laufey’s lap, a large hand gently stroking his head and another arm wrapped snuggly around his middle. Loki still held his toy clutched in his arms, refusing to relinquish it despite the circumstances. Fárbauti, sitting across from the other two in the kings’ parlor, recounted the story of how their firstborn was stolen, with Thrym standing guard at the door.

It had been a difficult task, getting Laufey to get up and move to their room for privacy. The Jotun king could barely be coaxed from the floor and to at least loosen his hold on Loki. Loki had been very confused, but curious as well. Who was Loptr? Why did you call me that? Why are you crying?

Even now, Laufey still refused to let his lost son out of his sight. Loki could feel his gaze on the top of his head, heavy and vigilant, as if he were afraid Loki would disappear, that he would turn out to be nothing more than an illusion. 

Though it was not what Loki was used to, the attention was…actually very nice. He had seen Frigga and Odin hold Thor like he was being held, and he often wondered how it felt to be held so close. Leaned against Laufey’s abdomen, he pressed back slightly and listened to the thunderous yet steady _thump-thump-thump_ of his heart. 

It was familiar, eerily so. It wouldn’t occur to him just yet, but he would soon understand that this was the same heart he had slept under before he was born. 

Fárbauti sighed, ending his tale, “And then you show up five years later…but it makes so much sense now, why we couldn’t find a body…”

Loki blinked, biting his lip, “So…fath-I mean, Odin…he stole me?”

Fárbauti nodded gravely, “Yes, though why is anyone’s guess. He is a cruel man after all, he probably just wanted to add salt to our wounds.”

“Why would he put salt in an owwie?” Loki asked, stunned.

He felt more than heard Laufey chuckle behind him, the large hand on his head fussing with his hair.

“It is an expression, child,” he said, before he sobered, “But this also means he likely knew you were ours.”

“How come? How would he know?” Loki asked.

“Your markings,” Fárbauti said, gesturing to Loki, “Children born between two Jotnar inherit specific markings from their parents. The markings on your arms and legs are mine, while the ones on your back, stomach, and face are Laufey’s.”

Loki blinked, looking down at his arms. He pushed the sleeves of his flimsy tunic up, staring at the markings swirling around his little arm. When he had first realized he looked Jotun, he had been quite surprised, but not frightened. He was rather curious and intrigued. And if he were honest with himself, he really thought the markings he and his parents wore were beautiful. 

“He took me away…” he muttered.

“Yes,” Laufey sighed, “Yes, he did…but had we had known you were _taken…_ ”

Loki looked up at Laufey, eyes wide and brows creased, “Would you have come to get me?”

“Of course,” Fárbauti’s adamant statement got Loki’s attention. “Your Dam and I would have toppled Asgard and the Nine Realms to get you back. Add to that, Odin has been hurting and neglecting you…”

Fárbauti gritted his teeth, sharp and deadly, “I will find him…I will find that shit eating bastard and-”

“Fárbauti.” Laufey warned with narrowed eyes, covering Loki’s ears.

Fárbauti sighed, calming somewhat. Behind him, Thrym cleared his throat and caught their attention.

“If I may interject, it seems perhaps Odin wanted to use Loki for political gain,” he started, “Perhaps he sought to use Loptr Prince as a hostage much like Freya. Should he think so little of us and ‘train’ our prince into thinking us monsters, it would be our loss and his gain should he trade him off to us.”

Loki blinked, very much confused, but he did not miss how Laufey seemed to scowl at the Lieutenant’s words. Fárbauti also seemed quite infuriated, but neither of them could protest Thrym’s theory. It certainly sounded like Odin. Steal a Jotun child – the heir to Jotunheim’s throne no less – and groom him to become a perfect little puppet king with the strings linked directly to Odin’s fingers. 

Loki looked between the three adults, before he turned his head up to look at Laufey. The larger Jotun, sensing the other’s gaze, peered down and smiled at Loki. 

Loki flushed and looked away, fidgeting. Frigga had never once looked at him like that. More often than not she was rather blank in the face, or showing disappointment. It was like she saw him as a burden more than a child – her child. 

But he wasn’t her child – he never was. He was not Odin’s son, he was not Frigga’s son, and he was not Thor’s little brother. He wasn’t Aesir, he wasn’t even a part of Asgard in any way, shape, or form. 

He was a Jotun, a stolen child – a stolen prince. He had not just been stolen out of pity or good intentions, but rather out of greed and pure opportunity. 

And his parents, his real parents…they had _missed_ him, they _mourned_ him. His real mother, Laufey, and his father, Fárbauti, they had loved and cherished him. And he had spent all of five years always wondering why Odin and Frigga didn’t love him, why Thor never saw him as anything but a bother. 

And perhaps he was simply too young to fully understand, but Loki thought he could now understand at the very least just why he was so different. 

Eyes burning, he looked up at his family imploringly.

“Does…does this mean you won’t send me back?” he asked, “I can stay here? I can work here as a servant?”

“No.”

Loki looked up with wide, stunned eyes at Laufey. The Jotun king stared down at Loki, his expression firm, but not unkind.

“You will not work as a servant,” he said calmly, “You will be brought up as you were meant to be; as a prince, my heir and treasure. You will work not on anything but on living your life happily and fully, and nothing more until the day you are crowned.”

Loki blinked, eyes watering and vision blurring.

“You…no one will hit me here…?” he asked meekly. Laufey shook his head firmly.

“No, no one will lay a harmful hand upon you, not without suffering mine and your family’s wrath.” He said.

Loki sniffled, his heart bursting. 

“I…I can have one more toy? Maybe a book or two?”

“As many as you could possibly want, child.”

“Do I get to eat with you and everyone else?”

“Only if you so wish it.”

“Can I go outside? I can have sweets? And can I play with others?”

“Loptr, there is nothing you could possibly want that we would not give you,” Fárbauti broke in, voice tight at what he was hearing from his lost child. 

Loki bit his lip, voice broken, “I can practice Seidr…?”

“We will find you a tutor to help you master it,” Laufey said, stroking his child’s head, “Truly, my gem, there is nothing we would not give you should you desire it.”

“Then…” a weak sob, the tiny Jotun starting to tremble. “C-can I have a hug? No one’s e-ever hugged me…”

If ever there was someone who had ever seen an adult Jotun cry before, Loki would be the only one to ever see such a thing. And for the Jotun in question to be King Laufey, his mother, his Dam, it only cemented his growing belief that the Jotnar were not monsters. 

They were just misunderstood – just like him. 

Laufey did not hesitate for even a breadth of a moment. Gathering the tiny Jotun to his chest, he gently squeezed his little giant to his breast, burying his nose in his thick dark hair, his shoulders trembling. Loki broke down utterly, clutching at Laufey like he was a lifeline, the only thing keeping him alive and sane. The Jotun king kissed away his tears, crooning and shushing him, but never reprimanding him for crying. He instead whispered his eternal love to Loki, thanking every God and Norn he knew of for his gem’s return. 

Distraught, his heart bursting with this new, unconditional love and happiness he had never felt, Loki felt his once frightened and saddened resolve completely and utterly slip away. 

Asgard would be nothing but a bad dream to him now. Here now, cradled in his mother’s arms, his father having joined them at some unknown point, none of his grief had ever happened. The scars on his heart would take time to heal, yes, but as of now, Loki could only care so much as any other child could about the past. 

In the end, exhausted, his tears run dry, and his aching body being soothed in the gentle arms of his parents, Loki finally slept. 

****

**

~s~S~s~

**

****

By the time Laufey was sure his gem was completely and utterly asleep, he sighed and looked to his mate in anguish.

“A hug,” he rasps, “He could ask for anything in the Nine Realms, and he only asks for _a hug_ of all things.”

Fárbauti nodded gravely, stroking his child’s hollow cheek. He was so thin, boasting none of that adorable roundness and soft shape of a child’s healthy body. The blaring purple of his bruised eye was somewhat tempered by his sapphire skin, but nevertheless, it ignited fury within Fárbauti and his mate. What had those Aesir beasts done to his baby? He looked half starved, tinier than he should be, despite being born far too soon. Was he supposed to be this small? Was it simply the result of his premature birth, starvation, or perhaps both?

And the small, almost meaningless things he had asked for…

“We will give him everything, Laufey,” Fárbauti said firmly, “He will want for nothing else in his life from this day forth.”

Laufey readily agreed, his eyes still burning with tears of anguish and absolute joy at having his son back. Yes, Fárbauti was right; his Loptr would not be without love or care in his life. He could have all the toys, books, and sweets he wanted. And though there were few Jotun children, Laufey would be damned if his child was without a proper friend to play and interact with. 

“Thrym,” he said, catching the Lieutenant’s attention.

“Sir?” Thrym stood at attention, somehow managing to stamp down his raging emotions from his nephew’s words.

“Have the servants clean up Loptr’s old rooms, and have the Healer bring a tonic for his eye…” Laufey said, his gaze never leaving the Jotun child, “And tell the realm their prince has come home.”

Thrym nodded, a small smile breaking over his aged face. With a bow and a quiet pardon, Thrym left to carry out his orders. The palace was going to get noisy today, he was certain of that. But he was just as equally certain that his nephew would sleep just fine.

“Fárbauti…” His mate looked to Laufey, eager and ready to serve, to kill in the name of his mate and child. 

“Find me a small needle and thread,” Laufey said, shifting Loptr to one arm and picking up his ruined toy with the other. “Amends have to be made before he wakes.”

Blinking in surprise, Fárbauti no sooner grinned. It has been quite some time since Laufey had sewn or mended anything, but he doubted the Jotun king had lost his touch. He kissed his mate’s cheek and his son’s forehead before going off to complete his task, leaving Laufey alone with Loki. 

Cradling the tiny body close, Laufey leaned down and gently kissed a pale sapphire forehead. Loki squirmed a bit, turning so he was facing Laufey’s chest, and reached up to firmly grip his collar. The child hummed contentedly, ear pressed over his mother’s thunderous heart. 

Laufey brushed his smooth black hair back, so much like his Sire’s. Curling up in his seat around Loptr, he gently leaned their foreheads together.

“I swear this to you, my Loptr. No harm shall come to you for as long as I draw breath,” he whispered, “You will not be unloved, my gem. This I swear.”

Quietly, he began to hum to Loki; the same song he had softly crooned to him when he was still cradled in his belly, and many more times after he had been born. He hadn’t sang the lullaby in over five years, and yet it came so naturally to him, as if he had only sang it yesterday. 

And as if in remembrance, Loki smiled softly in his sleep, snuggling closer to his Dam. 

To be continued…


	4. ATTENTION!!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please read!!!

Hello all!

I'm in need of a bit of help here in terms of fists for Loki to experience. I'm not used to writing cute fics, so I'm kind of stumped at the moment.  
Anyways, this is why I am coming to you, my readers, for suggestions!  
I already have perhaps two, maybe three first ideas for Loki, but I need more. A lot more.

So far I have first time sleeping with his parents, first pet, and first friend. But I need more ideas from you guys, and possible ways to expand on those three given ideas.

So please help if you can! Simply put your suggestion in a comment and submit! Be sure to add as many details as you can so I can get writing done much quicker. 

Thank you all so much!

~S~


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAUUUUGH. Damnit writers block. I am so sorry guys, I have been the worst authoress ever for leaving you hanging like this TwT I am so sorry! Please forgive me!  
> I promise I'll get back on track, I have plans to update Prodigal eventually, so to those who have been waiting patiently, I thank you all...and to those who keep sending me threats if I don't update, f*** off. I have a life.
> 
> Anyways, here, have a double update of cuteness and fluff and adorable Baby!Loki!
> 
> ~S~

Loki had never shared a bed with his parents.

On Asgard, he had once tried to get into Frigga and Odin’s bedroom when a rather nasty storm had hit the castle. Loki had been frightened of the lightning, and asked if he could sleep with them.

But of course, their response was anything but favorable. Odin actually became extremely upset at being woken up, yelling at Loki that he had a meeting in the morning or something. Frigga, bleary and not in the mood to humor Loki, simply said he needed to go back to his rooms and tough it out. He was too old to be wanting to sleep in their bed.

The funny (or perhaps cruel) part about this whole thing? Thor had been in their bed during this exchange. Loki had been so confused, he didn’t even have the mental power to feel sad or rejected until that morning. So instead he slept under his bed, hugging his only toy and friend close as the lightning crashed and the thunder roared. A part of him wondered if Thor was making the storm on purpose to scare Loki.

He didn’t sleep at all that night.

But now…

Waking up nestled between two Jotnar, at first Loki was unsurprisingly startled and confused. But his clever mind seemed to keep him from completely losing face, reminding him of the previous night and the new discoveries about himself. 

He blinked once, nearly completely buried under the soft, thick fur blanket cocooned around him. One of his parents must have wrapped him up before bed.

Wriggling like a stuck caterpillar, Loki broke free of the soft confines, stretching with a soft yawn. He blinked again and looked down at himself, surprised.

Instead of his ratty old tunic and baggy hose, he was dressed in a one piece, soft and thick fox fur suit, complete with a fluffy tail and pointy eared hood. And just beside him…

He gasped, grinning widely as he scooped up his toy. It looked exactly as it did before Sif had ruined it – though the stitching was much tighter than his own, and a very thick thread was used. But Loki didn’t care; his friend was all better now thanks to his parents!

Grinning, the tiny Jotun giggled to himself and looked between his parents. Both were asleep, facing him on their sides. Cocking his head, Loki half crawled, half swam through the thick furs and blankets towards Laufey. The Jotun breathed deeply and softly, his white hair splayed on the pillow and over his shoulders. 

Loki giggled, reaching out a tiny hand towards the larger Jotun.

“Boop…”

Laufey wrinkled his nose as the tiny finger poked its tip. Sniffing, his eyes opened slowly, bleary. Blinking to clear his vision, he was met with his tiny child watching him expectantly. 

Laufey chuckled as Loki made an attempt to flee under the blankets, but was easily caught up in his arms with a quiet squeal. Turning onto his back, Laufey settled the little Jotun on his chest.

“Good morning, gem,” he rumbled.

“It’s morning already?” Loki inquired, looking towards the window – it was still dark outside.

“Technically we don’t get up for a few more hours, but yes, it is morning,” Laufey said. 

“Oh…” Loki muttered.

Loki settled on his stomach over the larger Jotun’s chest, little legs kicking slowly. He stared at Laufey with wide, observant eyes, as if studying the larger Jotun. Laufey cocked his head, petting down Loki’s bedhead.

“Am I so hideous?” he asked with a teasing grin.

“What?” Loki asked, stunned. “No! You’re really pretty, even prettier than some of the girls in Asgard.”

“True, my mate was and still is quite the heartbreaker.” Fárbauti stretched beside them, gathering Laufey’s waist into his arms. He kissed his mate with a quiet ‘good morning’ and planted an obnoxiously loud, cartoonish smooch on Loki’s cheek, causing the tiny Jotun to giggle and swat at his Sire’s face. 

“You only say that because I defeated you in battle the first time we met.” Laufey scoffed.

“Not true! I was not defeated by traditional means,” Farbatui grinned, winking at Loki. “He cheated, using his entrancing beauty to weaken me before the fight.”

“Untrue!” Laufey said, indignant. 

“I speak no lies, dearest. I know you, you used those sultry eyes and enticing hips of yours to seduce me right on the battlefield.”

“By the Norns, Fárbauti. Loptr does not need to hear your lecherous comments!”

“Oh, I’ll show you lecherous…”

Laufey scowled, kicking his mate under the sheets. Fárbauti yelped, flailing before he twisted and, of all indignities, fell right out of the bed. 

Loki couldn’t help himself, and burst out laughing, giggling uncontrollably against his Dam’s chest. But he no sooner caught himself, clamping his hands over his mouth, cheeks flushing. He wasn’t allowed to laugh at others, it was rude, and he could be punished for it.

Fárbauti groaned, sitting up and shooting his mate a glare.

“So violent…” he muttered, pushing back his tangled hair before looking at Loki curiously. “What is it, child?”

Loki shook his head, pulling the hood of his nightie down over his face. Sitting up more, Laufey carefully held his tiny son in his arms as Fárbauti climbed back into the bed.

“What is it, gem?” he inquired, trying to peek through the tightly closed hood. “You can tell us.”

“…I…” Loki peeked an eye out cautiously, “It’s rude to laugh at others…I can get in trouble…”

Laufey frowned, Fárbauti barely withholding a snarl. As if it wasn’t bad enough, now their child was telling them he wasn’t even allowed to _laugh_ in Asgard?

Odin should be thanking every God and Norn that they did not have access to a Path into Asgard…yet.

Shaking his head, Laufey gently pried open Loki’s hood and stared down at him, smiling gently.

“It is true it’s not polite to laugh at others when they are hurt,” he said, gesturing to Fárbauti. “But does he look hurt to you?”

Loki looked at his Sire, blinking his large, garnet eyes. Fárbauti grinned at his son. 

“Your Dam and I merely jest,” he said, “Trust me, if he wanted to hurt me, he would, and you would know.”

Loki cocked his head, “Oh…”

The adults chuckled as their child took in this new information, no doubt a little confused and unaccustomed to the differences between true harm and a teasing jibe. He suddenly perked up, looking down at his lap where his mended toy lay. He looked up at Laufey.

“Did you heal him?” he asked.

Fárbauti laughed, “Indeed, your Dam is a master healer of toys!”

Loki seemed awestruck at the information, though Laufey only rolled his eyes fondly. But he no sooner looked down at feeling a tiny hand on his chest. Loki ducked his head, cheeks flushed a deep violet color as he clutched his toy.

“Thank you…” he said quietly, shyly.

Laufey smiled, enamored. Leaning down to kiss a tiny forehead, he gently hugged the tiny Jotun to his chest.

“Anything for you, my gem,” he said. 

Loki grinned, snuggling closer to his Dam, squealing happily as Fárbauti gathered his mate and child into his arms and squeezed them close, planting a loud smooch on his head. 

It was still early, and the family had no intentions of having an early start to the day. 

To be continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you all know, here's what Loki's PJs look like!  
> http://brokendeathangel.deviantart.com/art/Jotun4-347243389  
> ISN'T HE ADORABLE?! Laufey is NOT that toothy or huge in this fic though. I don't own the image.
> 
> ~S~


	6. Chapter 6

Laufey gently scrubbed the fragrant suds into Loki’s dark hair. Both were partly submerged in a large, floor imbedded bath in the Jotun king’s chambers. Perched on his Dam’s knee so as not to sink into the deep tub, Loki virtually purred under the attention. So this is what a real bath was like, he thought. The closest he had come to such a thing in Asgard was a large metal tub in a small stone room with a cold water faucet in the wall. Soap was rare, but sometimes a servant would bring him some if they thought he was becoming a bit too rank. 

Laufey’s large but gentle fingers felt very good on his scalp, gently scratching and scrubbing away dirt and grime. His hair already felt lighter, his pores opening for the welcoming soaps and scrubs. 

“Can…can I really come to breakfast with you?” he asked when Laufey’s fingers left his head.

“Of course you may, Loptr. Head back,” Laufey urged.

Loki – or Loptr as his parents called him, but he was only starting to get used to the name change – tipped his head back, squealing as a basin of water was dumped over his head, washing away the suds and leaving his dark hair shiny and smooth. Giggling, he shook his head rapidly like a dog out of a bath, flinging water everywhere. He felt Laufey chuckle behind him, his large hand coming down to ruffle his damp hair. 

“Sly fox,” he chuckled, working to untangle a few tresses. “Truly, you have nothing to fear with us, gem.”

Loki nodded, reaching out to grab at a colorful, floating ice orb in the water. Many of the little frozen balls floated in the water, ranging in sizes and colors, made by Laufey freezing the various large bubbles in their bath. Loki was utterly fascinated by them. 

“Um…” Loki bit his lip, rolling the ice ball in the water. “What about…sleeping with you again? Can I do that again…?”

Laufey shook his head, a fond smile upon his face. Now done untangling his child’s hair, he wrapped his arms around his tiny son’s middle and hugged him gently to his stomach. 

“No matter how old you may get, you are always welcome in our arms,” he said, “Remember this, Loptr, we would never reject you or deny you anything without good reason.”

“Like if you’re sick?” Loki asked.

“Exactly. If your Sire or I were sick, we wouldn’t want you to catch it as well,” Laufey said, turning Loki so he was cradled in one of his large arms. “Now then, out we get. It’s time you met some of the other royals, and you are no doubt starving.”

“Aww…” Loki pouted. He didn’t want to get out of the bath. It felt so nice, and the bubbles were so fun.

Laufey chuckled at his adorable expression. The Jotun king stood from the shelf he sat upon in the bath, pulling the drain plug and climbing out. 

Wrapping Loki in a large towel, he quickly dried him off, rubbing his head quickly and eliciting many giggles and ‘stop’s from the tiny Jotun. Now dry and only just realizing how hungry he was, Loki allowed the elder Jotun to dress him in a thick white tunic, pants, and furry boots. Though where he got such tiny clothing on such short notice, Loki didn’t know, nor did he care. And although it wasn’t pleasant, he sat as still as he could manage while Laufey gently dabbed a clear salve around his bruised eye to help it heal faster and stifle the pain. It left the skin around his eye feeling sticky, but he made sure not to touch it or rub it off.

Laufey informed Loki that Fárbauti had gone on ahead to get everyone ready and make sure no one tried to sneak a peek at Loki before everyone else. He quickly dressed in an outfit similar to what he wore the day before, adorning shiny jewels on his wrists and neck, and a few on his ankles and ears. Perched on his dresser, Loki picked up a bangle and attempted to wear it, but found it much too big. So he stuck it on his head as a crown.

“I always wanted to play with ma-um, Frigga’s jewelry…” he said softly, staring at the various golds, silvers, and jewels. “They were so pretty, but she said boys don’t wear jewelry…”

Laufey frowned, but soon smoothed over his expression. He lifted his son’s chin up to look at him, smiling softly.

“There is no shame in a bit of adornment,” he said, “And besides, you are not a male, nor a female. You are something far more special. And should you wish it, I can have a few things made just for you to wear.”

Loki’s face lit up. “Really?”

Laufey nodded, “Anything. Though we might need to wait on earrings, since yours are not yet pierced.” Laufey punctuated his point by gently pinching one of Loki’s little blue ears, the tiny Jotun giggling at the ticklish feeling.

“Can…can I have something like that?” Loki pointed to Laufey’s bicep.

Looking at his arm, Laufey took in the intricate silver band. Silver loops had been intricately woven to create a Celtic-like knot, circling his arm, both ends meeting at a large white peal in its center. 

“This?” he asks. Loki nodded.

“Uh-huh. You wore it even to bed last night,” he said, both parts curious and inquisitive. Laufey chuckled, touching the band.

“This band was made for me by your Sire,” he said wistfully. “It is my wedding band. Tradition dictates that, when a Jotun wishes to wed, he must dive into the sea and search for a white pearl. They must then craft a band from silver to inset it, and present it to their intended’s parents to gain their approval. If they approve, he may use it to propose to his intended…”

Loki gaped in awe, staring at Laufey’s wedding band. His Sire had done all that just for his Dam? It was such a romantic ideal, and it made him wonder how Odin proposed to Frigga. He had never seen her wear any kind of bicep bracelet, and she always had different rings on every day. Did she not have a wedding band? 

He suddenly frowned. “So I can’t wear one until I get married?” he asked. Laufey shook his head.

“No, you may wear one. White pearls are reserved for marriage, while colored pearls can be worn by anyone,” he explained. Loki lit up once more.

“Then, then! Can I get a green pearl?” he asked, “Oh, will Sire have to go into the sea again? Is it hard? He won’t get hurt will he?”

Laufey laughed at his child’s enthusiasm, picking him up in his arms. He kissed a little blue cheek, adjusting the makeshift crown on his head.

“Fear not, gem, there are many ways to get a peal without extreme measures. You just let me and your Sire worry about that,” he reassured. “Now then, are you ready to meet everyone?”

Loki bit his lip, obviously nervous. “Will you be there with me?”

“Every minute if you desire it,” Laufey assured. 

“Will they like me?”

“They nearly tore down the palace gates just to catch a glimpse of you. I think it is safe to assume that they will adore you.”

Loki nodded, cheeks flushing once more. He smiled shyly and nodded, and Laufey carried him out of his room and into the hall. Two guards – one of them being Thrym – awaited them, and they smiled at Loki. The tiny Jotun smiled back, waving shyly before burying his face into Laufey’s neck. 

He heard Thrym chuckle as they were escorted to the dining hall.

“Those nobles won’t stand a chance,” he said.

To be continued…


	7. PSA

** IMPORTANT! Author’s note and PSA regarding my Thor/Avengers fics. **

I will start off frank; no, I am **not** abandoning any of these fics; no, I am not going to be updating in the immediate future; and yes, they are still on-going, but life reasons will explain why they are not being updated.

I am in school and working to get my associates degree, then will be moving onto hopeful pilot training. My story priorities will remain on my **Rise of the Guardians** fics, primarily **_Solitude and Darkness_**. And because of my school schedule, and my working hours, I cannot work on more than **_SaD_** until I get free time, and until I finish **_SaD_**. 

Some of you may be confused as to why I am making this post now of all times. One fic hasn’t been updated in years ( ** _Come Home_** ), the other has also been mostly untouched for a year or so ( ** _Five Times Loki was Forgotten and One Time he was Not_** ), and another is sporadic in its updates ( ** _Prodigal_** ). 

I am doing this now because one individual on FF has been using some very poor methods of underhanded and simple-minded means of trying to get me to update these fics. Worse yet, I was planning to use some technical methods of getting them off my tail, but after doing some digging, I fear things may get a tad ugly. I’ll simply say Proxy server and leave it at that. They dropped numerous IMs on me regarding those fics, making passive-aggressive inquiries as to when I will update, despite my telling them it’s probably not going to be anytime soon because of my school, work and life in general. That was back in early October, yet last night, I get another IM from them asking how I’m doing on my Loki fics. It’s barely been a month, and all college students who read this know just how ridiculous that is – even non-college students know or have an idea of how much time school takes up. 

I’m a tad pissed right now, as I have told them straight up not to ask me about my fic progress in those stories, yet it was ignored. But the bottom line here is I’m getting suspicious, and this person’s IMs seem to correlate with those rather unhelpful ‘update please’ and ‘please update’ two-liners that get dropped into my review and comment boxes for those fics – per chapter, in less than five minutes between them. 

I’m getting tired of people dropping passive-aggressive comments and reviews that assume the fics are dead and they are sad I’m not writing them. If I don’t say ‘it’s over’ then chances are, it’s not over. People don’t know that, I get it, but it helps to not make assumptions, and better yet, not spam my review/comment box with unhelpful filler-comments. And even better yet, consider not just IMing me to pan-handle for updates that are not going to be written at the drop of a hat.

To recap. I’m putting this here to make people stop asking me when I’ll update and to deter one particular individual from bothering me on FF. I have seen your IP address, dear. And because of what I saw, I am not going to risk speaking to you directly if you are, in fact, a minor as the information implies. 

So yes, all of my Thor/Avengers fics are **_on hiatus until further notice._** I am doing this **_because I am busy_** and not out of spite – tempting as it is. I am also doing this as **_an indirect and final warning to a certain IMer on my FF account_**. 

**_THIS IS A PSA TO LET YOU ALL KNOW NOTHING HAS BEEN ABANDONED – I HAVE A GOD DAMN LIFE. I WILL NOT UPDATE ANYTIME SOON. I WANT TO, BUT I HAVE ALMOST NO TIME._**

And to those who have been so patient and supportive of me, and who continue to read and review… _ **thank you**_. Seriously, I have considered killing these fics many times because of the people who make demands of me or are just plain rude or unhelpful. You guys are what is keeping this and the other fics alive, and keeping my spirits up to prevent me from just deleting them out of spite and frustration. So thank you, seriously. I love you guys.

INHALE… I believe this is all I need and have to say on the matter. Hopefully you all will take this with a grain of salt, and the one person who I don’t want to hear from steps the fuck back. 

This has been a fanfic PSA from _**Sumi-Sprite.**_

Good evening, and see you all next time.

~S~

**Author's Note:**

> I am a terrible person for putting Loki through all that, but it gets better! I promise!
> 
> I DO NOT own the song 'Come Home', it is property of 'One Republic' and was only used as inspiration. 
> 
> Read and comment please!
> 
> ~S~


End file.
